When the Flames Soar Higher
by Valaina Wynn
Summary: Norman is accused of being a witch, and this time, there's no one there to save him. Warning: angst galore.


**A/N: So I got the idea to write this a while ago from a drawing I found on Tumblr.**

**I've posted links on my profile page if you're interested, and also a link to its wonderful creator, Meex Art!**

"Norman Babcock, you have been found guilty of the crime of witchcraft."

The judge stood at the podium, glaring down at the trembling boy in the center of the small courtroom. Tears were steadily leaking from his eyes as he shifted his wrists, the manacles holding them in front of his body rattling quietly.

"Please don't do this," Norman said shakily. "I haven't done anything wrong. This isn't my fault-"

"Silence!" A heavy thud sounded through the room as the judge's gavel hit the podium. Everyone in the room jumped. "You do not have permission to speak. You are nothing but a witch! There's only one thing to be done with you."

"No, please don't! I haven't done anything-"

"Execution! By _fire._" The gavel dropped once more, hitting the podium with a somber _boom _that echoed through the silent courtroom like a bad harbinger.

Norman's eyes grew wide and he began trembling even more.

"You can't do this!"

But the judge would have no more.

"Take him to his cell. The execution is to take place tomorrow at dawn." One of the guards at the door stepped forward and grabbed Norman roughly by the arm, spinning him around and marching him toward the door. The boy struggled to pull his bruising arm out of the large man's grasp, but it was as firm and unyielding as iron. The man shoved Norman out the door into the bright sunlight, where an astounding number of villagers were gathered. They looked enraged, some literally holding pitchforks.

"It's the witch!"

"Kill it before it destroys us all!"

"Burn the witch!"

All Norman could do was lower his head. He didn't see the only two people in the crowd who _weren't _yelling, two children around his age. Brother and sister they were, their features so alike that they could only be twins. Fraternal, of course, but twins nonetheless. Their names were Dipper and Mabel Pines. Norman's friends. Norman's _only _friends. At least in this time period.

The three had been trapped in the 1600s for well over a year, along with the Pines' Great Uncle Stan, who was acting as their guardian. Norman had been staying in Gravity Falls for the summer with the twins when the vortex opened and sucked them all in, spitting them back out, unfortunately, into the times of the Witch Hunts. After numerous, futile attempts to return to the future, the four had given up and reluctantly resigned themselves to a more simple way of life in the past. The twins had seemed happy enough; at least they had one family member to hold onto. But Norman…Norman was almost alone, his two friends now the closest things to family he had. But Stan had still looked out for him, for all of them, protecting them in this new world they were forced to call home. But soon it was normal; it was just another weird thing the small 'family' had gotten used to.

All had been going well, too, until the news of a witch in the village had somehow cropped up. And the search had led to Norman. Someone was spreading rumors.

Upon seeing Norman being roughly escorted from the courthouse, Mabel gasped, grasping her brother's arm to draw his attention to the scene. Until then, Dipper had been staring at nothing, an unreadable expression clouding his gaze. Sorrow? Worry? Guilt? It was impossible to tell. Mabel wondered, though. Why would her brother be feeling _guilty_? What could he possibly have done wrong?

But now there was no more time to dwell on the possibilities, however slim, for one of the twins' dearest friends was in danger. Mabel tried to grab Norman's attention as he passed, but the boy just stared at his feet, walking limply alongside his escort. She tried again, this time calling his name.

"Norman!"

His head snapped up, panicked blue eyes locking onto hers almost instantly. Norman shook his head frantically as he passed her, but didn't chance trying to say anything. Mabel knew immediately what he meant from the pleading look in his eyes. It wasn't for himself; it was for the twins.

_Don't get involved. They'll only hurt you, too._

Before Mabel could decide what to do, the big guard had disappeared with Norman into the jailhouse across the street. The mob dispersed as quickly as they had congregated, leaving only the two children.

"How did they know?" Mabel wondered out loud, absentmindedly twisting the strings of her bonnet in her hand. "They couldn't have. We've never told anyone." She looked at her brother, hoping for some kind of insight or answer, but the younger Pines twin remained staring blankly at his buckled shoes. "Dipper?"

"…What?" The word was quiet, uncertain. He wasn't really paying attention.

"Something's bugging you," Mabel said with a small smile. She poked him playfully in the shoulder, but it brought no reaction. "Come on, you have to get out of this weird funk so we can go help Norman!"

"We can't help Norman." His voice was so quiet that Mabel almost didn't hear the foreboding words.

"What is that supposed to mean? Why can't we help him?" Mabel was getting even more afraid than she had been, and not just for Norman. Now for Dipper, too.

"Because of me, Mabel," he responded, raising his eyes to meet hers. "Because of what I did."

Mabel almost cried when she saw those eyes.

They were full of guilt. Definite guilt. And pain. Dipper looked ready to break, and Mabel had to know why. She grabbed at his shoulders frantically, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

"Dipper! What did you do?!" His next words proved to be both their breaking points.

"I...I told."

* * *

Norman's guard shoved him roughly into the one small cell of the jailhouse, not even bothering to remove the manacles chafing the boy's wrists. The force propelled the small boy into the rough stone wall, and he scraped his hands upon impact. Norman's capotain fell off when he hit the wall, but he made no move to put it back on as he slid to the concrete floor. The loud slamming of the metal cell door and the stinging pain of his newly bloodied palms barely registered in the boy's awareness, he was so shocked. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs, trying to make himself as small as possible. The guards outside the cell were watching him with nothing short of contempt and...fear? But their expressions were so fleeting that he couldn't be sure.

How could anyone have found out about his...ability? He had never told anyone or even done anything considered 'strange' or 'weird' in public. No one had ever once been the least bit suspicious since Norman, Dipper, Mabel, and Grunkle Stan had appeared in the small village more than a year ago.

Dipper and Mabel.

Norman felt fresh tears running down his cheeks at the mere thought of his two friends. When Mabel had tried to talk to him outside, he almost panicked. What would the other villagers do to the twins if they were caught 'fraternizing with the enemy'? Norman shuddered at the thought of them being in the same position as him.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by the sound of metal scraping on stone. Looking up, Norman saw that a plate holding a piece of bread had been pushed into his cell. He was surprised; he hadn't thought that his accusors would be 'considerate' enough to feed him.

He inched away from his spot against the wall, tentatively touching the edge of the plate with one finger, somewhat afraid that the dented metal platter might disappear.

_After all, _he couldn't help thinking bitterly, _it might be my last meal for...well, forever._

More tears trickled down his face. A cold realization swept over him.

_The last time I'll see my friends will be while I'm burning on that pyre._

* * *

Mabel knew she should be mad at her brother. She should be furious, even. But she just couldn't bring herself to be. At least, not until she had heard the entire story.

"Why?" The girl asked in a quiet voice, not looking at Dipper, but at the jailhouse where one of her friends was being kept against his will. "Why did you tell? _Who _did you tell?"

Dipper stared down at the worn cobblestones of the town square. He couldn't bear to meet his sister's eyes, to bring himself to look into her ever-trusting gaze. He was too afraid of what he would see.

"It was a girl. Hannah. I told Hannah." Hannah was a pretty girl who lived in one of the cottages closer to town. Mabel knew that Dipper had been spending more and more time with her, but she would have never imagined how far her brother would go...

"Why did you tell her?"

"She wanted to know more about us. About him. I never meant to say so much, but she just kept asking questions, and I...I didn't know what else to do. It was almost like she knew something was wrong. So she wouln't leave me alone!"

Mabel couldn't help but feel sorry for Dipper, he looked so pained. She knew he had liked Hannah, and it must have nearly broken his soul to betray his best friend.

Norman being arrested had been the final knife to Dipper's already fragile soul.

"Oh, Dipper," Mabel said softly, holding her brother close as he cried. "It'll all be okay. We'll find a way to save him, I know we will! You always have good ideas. So, what's the plan?"

"There isn't one." The hollowness of his voice shocked her.

"But-but Dipper!" Mabel cried, holding him at arm's length now, looking into his misty eyes, "We need to help him! If we don't, Norman will...I mean, they'll..."

She trailed off, unable to finish. Grabbing Dipper's hand with sudden determination, she started pulling her startled brother toward the small courthouse.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"We have to go talk to that judge," Mabel replied matter-of-factly, her voice now even, though her eyes were still red from crying. "We have to try and convince him that Norman isn't a witch."

"But how are we supposed to do that? He's probably dead-set that Norman's a witch, and the words of a couple of kids aren't going to change that."

"We still have to try."

The two reached the doors of the courthouse and simultaneously reached out to push on the heavy wood. Then they slowly entered.

The inside was surprisingly cool and a bit musty, with wooden benches set in rows and a large, somewhat imposing podium sitting at the far end of the large room. The judge himself was still there, sitting at the podium and writing something with a quill. He barely looked up when Dipper and Mabel walked in, the scratching of the quill barely even slowing.

"What do you want? I am busy." His voice made the twins shrink back a little, it was so deep and loud, but Mabel bravely stepped forward, trying to keep from shaking.

"We're here about the boy you accused of being a witch."

The scratching stopped. She had gotten his attention, but that might not have necessarily been a good thing.

"What about him? The sentence has been placed, the trial is over. There is nothing more to discuss." He attempted to wave them out, but now Mabel would not be deterred. Despite Dipper's half-hearted attempts to stop her, she spoke out once more.

"He's not a witch. Norman-"

"You dare defend him?! The boy is guilty of practicing dark magic! And I suggest that if you don't want to burn with him, you get out of my sight this instant!"

Dipper grabbed Mabel's arm as she sprang back, shaken by the ferocity in the judge's voice, the fire in his eyes.

"Come on, Mabel. There's nothing else we can do." He pulled her out of the courtroom, away from the fiery gaze of the judge.

Once outside, more tears made their ways unbidden down Mabel's cheeks.

"We really can't help him, can we, Dipper?" She whispered. Dipper could only shake his head in response. "Then we'll at least go see him. Just one last time. We'll let him know that, no matter what, someone will always be there for him."

Dipper readily agreed; after all, it was the least he could do after he had pretty much betrayed his friend. The plan was to sneak over to the jailhouse after nightfall, talk to Norman through a window. And say their goodbyes.

* * *

Norman couldn't sleep. He smirked dryly as he thought of the sole reason that he _couldn't _sleep. He was never going to see his friends again, or his family, or Gravity Falls, or Blithe Hollow. And he was going to be burned in the morning. It was no wonder he wasn't tired.

"Norman." The voice was so quiet that, at first, Norman wasn't sure if he had actually heard anything. But then it came again, louder this time, from right outside the small, barred window.

"Norman, are you in there?"

The voice was familiar. Really familiar. Norman pushed himself up from the cold stone floor and looked through the window, shocked at who he saw.

"Mabel? Dipper?" His heart soared when he saw his two friends, so close that he could touch them. "What are you doing here? It's dangerous!" Despite his joy at seeing the two, he knew that they could get in big trouble if they were caught.

"We couldn't just not come and see you," Dipper whispered, his eyes glazed with unshed tears. "Especially since...well..."

"What?" Norman was confused.

"It's my fault you're in here." The younger boy's voice was quiet, and he averted his gaze, staring at the dirty metal bars of the window. "I told Hannah. I thought I could trust her, but...I was stupid. I'm so sorry, Norman."

Dipper reached through the bars, grabbing Norman's hand and holding it like he was afraid that the older boy would pull away.

But he didn't. Instead, Norman held onto Dipper's hand like the lifeline it was.

"It's okay. I know you're sorry. I'm just happy that you two pretty much risked your lives to come and see me. You're the best friends anyone could ever have."

Norman couldn't hug them, but he took their hands in his own, and the three friends shared a final silent moment. Then Norman reluctantly pulled away.

"Listen," he whispered with a sense of urgency in his voice, "I want you two to not try and help me. They'll just turn on you, too. And I want you to tell Grunkle Stan..."

His voice stopped, and the already big lump in his throat threatened to suffocate him. But the twins knew what he wanted to say.

"We'll tell him," Mabel said, tears running down her face. She squeezed Norman's hand again.

"Thanks, guys." Norman struggled to hold his tears back. "And Dipper...I forgive you."

Dipper grabbed Norman's hand one last time, conveying silent words of apology to his friend. Then the twins were gone, rushing back out into the night.

And Norman was alone. Again. This time, his tears flowed freely.

* * *

Morning came all too quickly, the sun rising on blood-red clouds. Dipper looked out of the window of the cottage to see that a wooden platform had already been erected in the center of the square. Men were piling bundles of tinder and dry brush into a circle around the pole in the middle of the platform.

Dipper heard a small sniff from beside him, and looked to see that Mabel had joined him at the window, her eyes misting over at the sight of the macabre firepile.

"It's really happening, isn't it?" She whispered. Dipper said nothing, but put his arm around her shoulders in what he hoped was a comforting gesture.

Across the village, in the jailhouse, Norman was watching the sun rise with a heavy heart. His wrists were cut and bruised from the manacles still clamped around them, and his clothes were dirty from a night spent on the cell floor. Not that it would matter later, anyway.

The cell door slammed open behind him, but the boy didn't look away from the window, even when one of the guards yelled at him.

"Witch! Get over here!"

But Norman didn't move, didn't even acknowledge their presence. Until one of them grabbed him roughly by the back of his collar, spun him around, and slammed him up against the wall. The man held Norman's collar so tightly that he could do little more than let out panicked whimpers.

"You, Witch, have no place in this town. You're lower than scum, you little maggot. Now it's time for you to burn."

He hauled Norman out of the cell, ignoring the boy's strangled pleas as he struggled to loosen the man's death grip on his collar.

The morning sun seemed almost too bright after the long in the dark cell, but Norman welcomed the opportunity to stretch his legs, even though it would be the last time he ever got the chance to do so.

He paled when his 'escort' jerked him into view of the square and he could see the platform. It stood tall and unblemished, soon to be marked with burns and...

Norman's impending execution seemed to have produced quite a turnout. Almost the entire village had gathered in a circle around the pyre, glaring disdainfully at Norman as he passed. Even other children were there, kids that Norman had once thought to almost be his friends. At least they hadn't initially treated him with hate. Until now.

The man holding Norman's collar forced him up onto the platform, practically slamming him into the wooden pole. Norman's wrists were finally released from the manacles, but he hardly had time to sigh in relief before his hands were forced behind him, around the pole, and the manacles were replaced with coarse rope that cut even farther into his maimed wrists.

"Norman Babcock." The judge's voice boomed across the square in a terrifying echo. "You have been accused and found guilty of practicing witchcraft. Do you have any last words before your sentence is carried out?"

Norman, scared as he was, looked out across the crowd, over the faces of villagers blinded with hatred, over the accusing, cold eyes of the judge and jury, to the back of the sea of people. To where Dipper and Mabel stood, with no trace of hate anywhere in their soft features. Only love. And sorrow. And guilt. Unsurprisingly, Grunkle Stan was not with him. Norman knew that the man he had come to love as a grandfather could never bear to see someone he loved die, especially a child. Norman never said anything. Not aloud, anyway. He locked gazes with the twins, instead.

First with Mabel, who was clinging to her brother. To her, his eyes conveyed words of love, years of memories of fun and sadness. Of family. It almost killed Norman to look away.

Then Dipper, who had his arms around Mabel and only gripped her tighter. To him, Norman gave a look of encouragement, of forgiveness. Forgiveness for all his transgressions, for his mistakes. Because Norman knew that Dipper would never forgive himself. Ever.

Norman never broke eye contact with his two best friends. Not when the judge spoke again, giving the final orders. Not when one of the guards stepped forward, with a lit torch in his hand. Not when he threw it on the dry wood and brush, which immediately caught fire. And not even when Norman could feel the heat beginning to become unbearable, the smoke almost too thick to see through, the fire starting to burn through his shoes, did he look away.

He never looked away.

But still the flames soared higher.

**A/N: That angst, though. Sorry about that. But if it makes y'all feel any better, I'm pretty emotionally drained after writing this. I feel terrible. Anyway, remember to look at the links on my profile page if you want to see the picture that inspired this, and that reviews are always appreciated!**

**And, as always, I'm open to requests!**

**¬Val**


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